Promises
by CleopatraQoD
Summary: This is just a fluff fic after Ex-File as Gibbs and the director decide to take a chance together.


Disclaimer: Sadly, none of these characters nor anything in the NCIS universe belongs to me.

Spoilers: None

Timeframe: After Ex-File episode

This is my first ever published fanfic, so I'd really welcome reviews and suggestions of what went well and what didn't. I'd like to continue the story, and feedback would really help speed the process (or let me know that that's a really bad idea  ).

***

"Positano bites deep. It is a dream place that isn't quite real when you are there and becomes beckoningly real after you have gone." -- John Steinbeck

***

At the familiar Gibbs roar, Cynthia looked up from her desk where she sat protecting the director's privacy. The senior field agent looked especially intimidating today in black slacks, an NCIS badge clipped to his belt, a charcoal dress shirt, and an equally dark scowl. When she'd first met Jethro, Cynthia remembered telling the director that she thought Jethro never wore a tie so he wouldn't be tempted to strangle random meddlers. After several months' acquaintance, she'd only grown firmer in her sentiments.

"Sir, you can't go in there. Director Shepherd is on conference call with the..."

Jethro flung the door open before she could finish her sentence or make it past the desk. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Jen?," he bellowed. "Petty Officer Lewis is a marine. It doesn't matter where he died, it's our case, and the DCPD don't have a single damn reason to take over. And you just tie a bow around it and put it under their tree?"

"Close the door, Special Agent Gibbs." Jen pushed some files aside, although Jethro noted she wasn't on the phone. Cynthia never ceased trying to protect the director, an attitude he sympathized with but felt was useless nonetheless. She could fight her own battles and then some. As if proving the point, Jen deliberately placed her glasses on the desk and glared at him. "Now."

Jethro threw the door shut and strode forward until he was planted in front of her desk. As furious as he was, he still couldn't suppress the tiny jolt he felt on seeing her, even after all these years. Who knew that burnished auburn hair, blue eyes, and a low-cut pinstriped suit could be so incendiary?

Jen rose from her chair, smug but ready to do battle. These skirmishes with Jethro often provided her only source of excitement now that she'd chosen a bureaucratic job filled with red tape and politicking. She smiled calmly. "I did no such thing. The case is yours."

"That's not what the chief just told me," his tone demanding clarification.

"I let him assume what he wanted. I knew Ducky would be in the area for _La Bayadere_, so I told the chief that if his ME was first on the scene he was welcome to the case. No LEO will be able to get there before Ducky--he takes too much pride in his work. No one but Ducky would take the trouble to listen to the poor marine." As she spoke, she wound around the desk until she was facing him directly.

"You called Ducky?" He took her silence as affirmation before biting off a rejoinder. "It's my team, director. My agents answer to me."

"I'm the director, Agent Gibbs. Both you _and_ your agents answer to me," she responded icily before relenting, "I couldn't tell the chief directly to take a hike because he's Billow's son-in-law and Billow makes our budget. This will let him to think he's getting his own way, and he won't be able to call foul in the end. It's called politics, Jethro. You could learn a little."

He smiled ruefully, admiring her smooth handling of what could have been a larger crisis even as she needled him. "You've always known how to press my buttons, Jen." He turned to leave, murmuring under his breath, "The problem is that you do it so well."

Jen almost let his comment pass, knowing that he hadn't meant for her to hear and that saying something could create a minefield for them, but constantly making nice with a 'fellow' ex and his current girlfriend for the past week had made her a little reckless. She taunted his back. "Careful. Your lieutenant colonel wouldn't like where that might go."

Jethro slowly turned around, his posture newly tense. "She isn't my lieutenant colonel anymore."

Jen normally wouldn't pry, but Jethro normally ran off after any emotional disclosure. Usually his escape was just figuratively, but bitter experience had told her he wasn't above fleeing a continent if need be. The fact that he'd turned around instead of simply lobbing the breakup at her as he left meant that he might actually answer a question or two. She asked softly, "What happened?"

He smiled dryly. "I'm sure you can gander a guess."

"I don't want to. I've never claimed to read minds, much less relationships. God knows I've had epic misreadings of my own relationships." Her words were light, trying to buoy the weighty seriousness of their conversation.

"I talked to Stephanie last night. She came by the house to return my tags. She's headed up to see her mom, devastated that Eric cheated on her. She was surprised I didn't hold that over her head. I didn't realize I'd been such a bastard to her. She deserved better. Deserves.

"When I went back to the house, I found Hol in the basement, listening to the tape of Kelly and Shannon. I couldn't go down there, Jen. I know she meant well, but I can't share that. I never have. I don't think I've ever dated a woman who hasn't complained about competing with a ghost. And maybe they're right. I don't want to repeat my mistakes. Stephanie is a good woman; she deserved someone who not only cared about her but who loved her. So does Hollis. I'm not that man."

Jen's heart ached for his hurt and the guilt she knew he carried for their deaths. But she didn't want him to hurt like this forever and she'd stored a lot of anger at his refusal to cope with life. Clearly and deliberately she lashed out at him. "You selfish, egotistical bastard. I know you're hurt, but do you really think that justifies hurting everyone else around you? You had a wonderful family, something that should have lasted forever, and you were grievously robbed of that. But you keep reenacting that tragedy every time you cut yourself off from someone, every time you break some woman's heart because you can't bear to reach out."

She crossed the floor until she could look unflinchingly direct into his eyes and placed her hand on his shoulder. "Shannon was a fine woman, and Kelly was a lovely girl, but you're a good man too. If you let yourself. You're not obligated to live the rest of your life haunted like some damn gothic hero. You're here, Jethro. And so is your team if you'll let them. And so am I," she almost whispered.

"I'm not trying to be a Heathcliff, Jen. More...ah hell. It's been too long since a lit class."

Jen smirked, "How about a Darcy?"

"Blinded by pride? Yeah, sounds about right." Gibbs admitted.

She raised an eyebrow, surprised at his unexpected candor and his correct association. "You surprise me. I would never have pegged you as a _Pride and Prejudice_ man. Don't tell me that's one of DiNozzo's favorites," she joked skeptically.

Gibbs chuckled. "Nah, that's one thing you can lay at the wives' door." He held her at an arm's distance, eyeing her assessingly. "I always pictured you as the Elizabeth Bennett type. A fighter, razor wit, deadly logical, and hell in skirts."

She fought to keep her composure under all the sudden compliments and maintain a blasé attitude. "Is that all you picture me as?" she teased.

"Well, you're much deadlier with a weapon. Especially if you haven't had your morning coffee."

"Look who's talking," she objected.

"And you'd outclass any woman in bed," he smiled, although his tone had gotten quite serious as he looked her in the eyes. "You were an amazing lover and friend, Jen, in case I never told you."

She sucked in a breath at his bluntness. Except for the tragedy he'd been circuitously avoiding half his life, he'd never been one to shy from directness. She tried to return a lighthearted challenge, but knew the sting was lacking. "Was, Jethro?"

He chuckled and put the ball firmly back in her court, knowing she always rose up to a challenge. "I'm here Jen. If you ever want to...prove your standing." He shook his head, "but you've a hard act to follow."

Jen's mouth gaped open in shock as her eyes narrowed to hard bullets. "How dare you!"

Jethro stood perplexed for an instant at her anger and then realized what she'd heard. "No! No, I meant you Jen. You and me, nine years ago in Versailles. Jeez, Jen. You know I'd never even think that!"

She looked at him suspiciously for a moment, before permitting a small smile and nodding so he knew his clumsy word choice had been forgiven. She sobered up quickly, however, and placed a hand on his forearm. The projected intimacy felt so right, but she knew that there was still unfinished business. "I need to know where you're at, Jethro. I don't think I'll be able to forgive you again if you just cut me out again. We both have our own ghosts, but I won't play second fiddle to a phantom."

He paused to carefully think through his answer. "I can't make any guarantees, Jen. You know that. After three divorces, I sure as hell know that." He grabbed her hand as he felt her beginning to withdraw. "But I can tell you I'm ready to really make it work. I've loved you since Paris, Jen, and nothing's stopped that, not time, not suspicions, not anger, nothing. Not even the bourbon," he grinned wryly. "I want to stop screwing around. I'll always love Shannon and Kelly, but I'm in love with you. And I don't want to destroy that. Not again. I can't promise I won't mess up, but I promise I'll let you hold me accountable."

"Let, Jethro?" She smirked. "Point taken. No easy outs for either of us then. So...what now?"

"Well," he slid his hands up to her shoulders, "I've always wanted to make up for my performance in Positano. Think we could do a rematch?"

"Long vacations to Italy aren't exactly in either of our game plans, Jethro. And I refuse to become gossip fodder for the rest of the team. That should've been another condition."

"One minute into our new relationship," he drew out the syllables, relishing the second chance, "and you're already changing the rules, Director? Well, in the spirit of compromise, how about my basement, Friday night, seven o'clock?"

"I'll be there." She reached up to kiss him. Their mouths met, each nipping softly at the other's. What started as a simple echo of past romance and current possibilities quickly turned into intense passion. The kiss deepened as he demanded entrance into hers with his tongue and they tangled over dominance. She pressed herself against him, their bodies nestling together as his head dropped to lave a trail of kisses down her neck, nipping and sucking. She moaned quietly and arched backward to give him more freedom. His hands reflexively tightened on her waist.

Jethro pulled back. "Probably should end this now if we don't want the team cashing in on their bets."

"They've been betting on us, Jethro?" She shook her head. "Don't answer that, I shouldn't be surprised."

He turned to head toward the door. She grabbed him and stretched up to whisper in his ear, her breath tickling his sensitive earlobe and making him shiver involuntarily. "Just be ready for Friday night. A girl can learn quite a few things in nine years." She gracefully slid back behind her desk before he could shake off his stunned reaction. "You have a case, Agent Gibbs."

***

As Jethro strode down the stairs, he announced, "Gear up. Dead sailor at L'Enfant Plaza."

DiNozzo stared at his boss. Cynthia had called to warn him that the Director had put Gibbs in a particularly fulsome mood, but he could've sworn a half-grin had flashed across the boss's face.

"I'm not waiting for Christmas, DiNozzo. I said now!"

DiNozzo shrugged as he slung his bag across his shoulders. Must have been wrong.


End file.
